


Shake On It

by Baneberry



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Pre-War, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 04:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baneberry/pseuds/Baneberry
Summary: Ratbat wanted influence and power. Proteus wanted sex. Neither expected love to enter the equation.





	Shake On It

**Author's Note:**

> For purple-minnow on tumblr. They asked for Proteus/Ratbat PWP that eventually turned into something a little deeper and uguu. Who am I to turn down shitty senators actually falling in love? They also asked Ratbat be a little on the short side as well.

Originally, both Proteus and Ratbat's plans were different.

Proteus wanted sex, Ratbat wanted power. An easy exchange, really. But then an unknown variable entered their experiments, one they did not expect would ever be a... problem. Even calling it a "problem" felt a little harsh. 

Therein lied the problem.

It started a few months ago. 

Proteus had never really noticed Ratbat more than necessary outside of work. He knew he was fastidious, greedy, intelligent, prone to indulging in morally ambiguous to downright illegal activities, and enjoyed stirring the pot. All good qualities, all Proteus could relate to. Physically Ratbat was easy on the eyes, too; the little animal motif he had going wasn't usually Proteus's type, but he could appreciate the pride his fellow Senator took in being a "descendant of the progenitors." And he was short--not Minibot-short, not disposable class short, but shorter than anyone else on the council, and short enough to amuse Proteus the first time he met Ratbat.

Probably good in bed. Proteus hadn't heard any rumors suggesting otherwise--or, well, any at all. Which made him even more curious. He'd fucked at least half the council, and every single one of them had been grateful. If not grateful, wise enough to keep their mouths shut and not spread gossip. Ratbat could make a fine notch on his belt, Proteus thought, and so it was settled.

For Ratbat, it was never about sex or attraction. Of course Proteus was handsome. He was charming, elegant, a real silver-tongue. How he managed to stay so clean and rosy-scented given the amount of shit he spewed was amazing. No, rather, Ratbat wanted more influence, more impact on the council. If you were friends with Proteus, you were always guaranteed to get the first and last word. Being in this mech's pocket (he scowled, immediately reminded of his damn height) would get him places, and fill his many bank accounts. Chumming it up with Proteus had more benefits than cons.

Proteus, naturally, made the first move.

Decimus was holding a party for some achievement or other. Nothing of importance; nothing he could have done alone, but still took all the credit for. The entire council was there, including numerous political figures, government agents (some cops, even), and celebrities. The high grade and engex flowed endlessly, and the orchestra played all night.

"Looks like you could use a boost."

Ratbat could easily reach the punch bowl, and yet... Very few people were wise to make jokes at his expense, but he recognized that voice instantly. Maybe he should have just laughed, but the engex swirling in his sloshed CPU suggested otherwise. "Maybe," he replied, turning and facing the grinning Senator Proteus, "would you mind getting on your hands and knees and giving me that boost? I don't want you to get dirty, but I hear you're quite used to that position."

Stupid. Utterly stupid. But Proteus didn't look or sound offended when he laughed. "You wound my reputation, Ratbat," he said, "all I wanted to do was help my good colleague."

Ratbat tittered. "Yes, well, my apologies." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I think I've had a little too much engex..."

"Nonsense," Proteus guffawed, pouring Ratbat another glass. He took his empty cube, shoved the new one in his hands. "How else are we expected to get any work done?"

Both Senators laughed. Ten minutes later, they were outside on a balcony, taking in the cool night air. Ratbat gazed over the balcony at the paparazzi swarming below; a few flashed their cameras at him. "Better get my good side," he mumbled.

"No good shots from this angle," Proteus said, keeping back, "I like to tease them."

Ratbat snorted, knocking back his engex. "Sometimes you just have to throw your fans a bone every now and then," he said. He tossed his half-empty glass down at the crowd. Some gasped when the energon hit them, others scrambling around the cube as if it were a brick of gold.

Proteus watched Ratbat closely. He could very easily bend the Senator over the balcony, _really_ give his "fans" something worth filming. Coming undone, begging for Proteus to fuck him harder, faster, until he was a drooling, sobbing wreck, messy and dripping in transfluid and lube. But Ratbat was drunk, and so was Proteus. A corrupt, immoral politician, but Proteus was no monster. At least not that kind of monster. "You give them a drop of blood, they'll start a feeding frenzy," Proteus said, walking behind Ratbat. He dragged his hand along the smaller Senator's shoulders, over his cape. "Be careful."

Ratbat shivered.

A clear invitation, but not for now. It was Ratbat's move now.

Two weeks later, Ratbat pulled Proteus aside after a brief council meeting. "I have a few things I need you to look over and sign," he explained, waving a datapad. "If you have the time."

"For you, good friend, always," Proteus agreed. "Let's talk in my office."

Ratbat played it innocent at first. Made it all about work and nothing else. Proteus, for the most part, went along. He read the papers, signed a few, critiqued others. He was a Senator first and foremost. When Proteus handed the 'pad back, Ratbat made sure their fingers brushed when he took it. Proteus didn't think much of it at first, but when he went to pull his hand away, Ratbat held on.

Proteus looked alarmed, optics wide. Ratbat leered. "As always," he said, one finger lightly stroking Proteus's knuckle, "I am grateful for your input."

Ratbat left before Proteus could say anything.

This slow game went back and forth. Less like chess and more like tennis. One slip-up, and it could ruin everything. Proteus invited Ratbat out to parties, introducing him to powerful figures and friends. Ratbat came by Proteus's office more often, closing that personal space between them. So far it'd been simple touches; hands on elbows and shoulders and hips, smacks on the back, and Ratbat didn't even complain when Proteus pat him on the head like some protoform.

Then Proteus played his trump card: introducing his new friend to Nominus Prime. Ratbat actually had a personal, one on one conversation with the Prime. Before he'd have to schedule and wait two weeks to even get a word in with the busy leader. Now they were shooting the shit like old friends, and Ratbat was exhilarated and dizzied. Even more-so when Nominus showed interest in some of his ideas and propositions.

After Nominus left and the party ended, Ratbat grabbed Proteus by the wrist and impatiently pulled him into the closest empty room. He shoved Proteus on the nearest flat surface (a desk, but a large one), straddled his hips, and pinned him down with grateful, hard kisses. Proteus's usual restrain and gracefulness instantly disappeared; he grabbed Ratbat, squeezed his hips as he flipped the smaller bot onto his back.

The kiss broken, they smiled at one another, optics glowing vivid and wild. Proteus took his mouth into another sloppy kiss, rutting between his open legs, and Ratbat all too eagerly ground his codpiece against his. Fingers fumbled as panels opened; Ratbat gasped into Proteus's mouth when the Senator thrust two thick fingers inside of him. Too hard, too fast, but he liked it and it showed, lubricant instantly welling and dripping out between the digits, his mesh walls fluttering and spasming as they were scissored open. Ratbat reached down, pumped Proteus's unit into full erection, both mechs gasping and shaking and desperately rolling against each others overheated chassis.

The first time was clumsy. Fun, but a little too short for both their liking. Proteus decided he liked the way Ratbat's body felt around him. His channel clenching down on his unit, taking him to the hilt. When he overloaded, those slick walls milking him of every last drop of transfluid. The way Ratbat's smaller frame twisted beneath him when he climaxed, his cries and noises, the coolant showing glossy on his lips in the low, dim light of the office.

Ratbat would have preferred something a little slower and more comfortable, but that wasn't entirely Proteus's fault. So there'd have to be a next time; he didn't realize just how excited he was for that time to come. And it didn't take very long.

Two days later, Proteus invited Ratbat out for dinner. It was a fancy meal at a fancy restaurant. The type you had to reserve a year in advance to get into, and pay an arm and a t-cog to afford. It had all the makings of a romantic dinner date, and their server treated it as such. He even brought them a bottle of high grade, on the house from the owner. A friend of Proteus's; the type of friend Ratbat wanted to exploit for himself. They drank but not too much. A little buzz to help ease them into what happened next.

Proteus's place this time. A comfortable slab. Less desperation; slower, but not tedious. Ratbat groaned low and heavy, seated fully on the mech lying beneath him. He rolled his hips, sluggishly and deeply riding the unit, letting it grind against his nodes. Proteus's engine hummed, arms folded beneath his head, enjoying the show.

"P-Primus," Ratbat groaned, chewing his bottom lip. One hand sunk between his legs, pulling back his hood and fondling the anterior node. He whimpered, head dropping back. He started bouncing, faster now, the charge in him growing needy. Proteus held onto his hips, helping him along with a few hard thrusts. "P-Proteus," Ratbat gasped, mouth agape and optics hooded, "oh, P-Primus...!" He looked down, watching inches of the unit slide in and out of him, one hand braced against Proteus's abdomen.

"You know the closer you get to overloading," Proteus purred, stroking hip plating, "the more you whimper and whine." He pulled Ratbat down, the smaller mech groaning as half the unit slid free of his channel. "They're really quite exquisite noises," Proteus said, kissing the bashful Senator.

Proteus was busy the next month. Ratbat knew he didn't need to bother the mech. Ratbat was gaining more traction in the council now. Friends of Proteus were now friends of his. Nominus Prime even greeted him by name once, taking the time to even say something when he was rushed by attendants down the hall.

Ratbat got what he wanted, and if Proteus wanted sex, he need only call. Proteus made those calls, though, not Ratbat.

Except when Ratbat... did.

Proteus had been busy, and Ratbat immediately felt stupid for even trying to get a quick shag in the closet.

"Besides," Proteus sighed, sifting through datapads, "Nominus gave me quite the work-out last night."

"Nominus?" Ratbat hissed, frowning. "No, of course. Why am I even surprised."

Proteus stopped everything he was doing, regarding Ratbat with a shocked expression. "Are you... jealous?" he sneered.

Ratbat scowled. "Absolutely not!"

Ratbat didn't get a quick shag in the closet. He got something much longer and even more complicated. Proteus ordered his secretary to hold any calls and visitors and locked his office door. Ratbat was soon on his knees beneath the desk, hands tied behind his back, Proteus playfully stroking his unit against his cheeks. Ratbat lashed his tongue up the shaft, making those needy noises Proteus loved so damn much. Proteus finally took him by the back of his head, guiding his mouth down his unit, until it pushed against his intakes and Ratbat needed a moment to adjust.

"You could have probably just remained standing," Proteus teased, "you're certainly short enough." Ratbat's scowl vibrated through his unit. He snapped his hips, grinding them against the senator's face. "Jealousy does look good on you though, sweetspark," he said. 

Ratbat glowered up at Proteus, wrists twisting in the restraints, cheeks hollowed as he worked the unit in his mouth. The anger quickly subsided when Proteus's foot found his crotch, the edge of his boot kneading against his codpiece. Ratbat whimpered around the unit, head bobbing faster. His plates spread, allowing Proteus to rub and stroke the bottom of his foot against engorged, wet folds. Ratbat's fingers bit into his palms as he struggled in the bindings.

"You've no need to be jealous, Ratbat," Proteus hummed, wiping coolant from the corners of Ratbat's half-lidded optics, "in fact..." 

But he never did finish. Not in words, at least. Not even ten minutes in, Proteus took a call--held an actual conversation with another senator while Ratbat sucked him off under the desk. It was a little demeaning, but there was something nice, even a little comforting, about Proteus keeping his hand on his head. Didn't move it away; sometimes he would stroke his helm. Like a more perverse form of hand holding. Ratbat tried not to make too much noise when he choked on Proteus's transfluid, swallowing most of it. The taste lingered in his mouth, even after a rinse and wash; sweet, kind of, intoxicating. 

Ratbat liked it.

Three weeks later, Nominus Prime was assassinated. Not long after that, the Clampdown was approved, and Sentinel was made the new Prime.

"Your data on the Decepticons came in quite useful," Proteus smirked, stirring the energon cube in his hand. He stood with Ratbat on the same balcony from that night so long ago. Sentinel Prime's party continued inside, loud and boisterous. Outside it was quieter and more peaceful, but the reporters and paparazzi below had gathered in much larger droves. None of which seemed to be interested in mere senators at the moment.

"I am excited to see what the future holds, now that the Clampdown is in effect," Ratbat chuckled, leaning against the balcony. He looked up at the stars, a twinkle in his optics. "I have my own ideas. Some I'd like to share with you, once I've gathered all the pieces."

"Is your friend a piece in this puzzle?" Proteus asked. "The Empty. I forget his name."

"Soundwave?"

"What part does he play in your massive scheme? It must be very important."

Ratbat cocked a browplate. "Well now," he leered, turning to his colleague, "I'd never thought I'd see _you_ get jealous." 

Proteus frowned, downing his cube.

"It's a good look on you, sweetspark."

Proteus strode up to Ratbat until their bodies were flush against one another. He took Ratbat by the chin, tilting his head back. "I think I might love you, my short friend," he said, leaning down.

Ratbat's optics widened, yellow bright and flashing. "You--"

Proteus kissed him, held him against his body tight. And Ratbat's shock wore off, because... Well, now was not the time for thinking. He pulled back, bit Proteus's lip hard, then kissed him again.

Sentinel Prime was the only one to spot Proteus and Ratbat as they took off upstairs. He snorted and shook his head.

Ratbat was shoved against the window, Proteus forcing a napkin in his mouth. "Must be quiet, dear," Proteus sneered, "don't want anyone hearing those cute noises."

 _Only for you anyway_ , Ratbat thought.

And therein lied the problem. Originally, this should have been much more simple. Then a new variable got involved, one neither expected. Maybe it was love, or something much less deep and meaningful. Maybe whatever it was wasn't actually a problem.

Proteus's hands on Ratbat's hips were surprisingly gentle. Anchoring. Proteus slid one hand down his front, and Ratbat opened his panels. With the same tenderness, he slipped the edge of one finger inside, first massaging the anterior node. Ratbat's knees were already starting to buckle, lubricant instantly cutting down his quivering thighs. Proteus was silent, nuzzling his mouth against Ratbat's neck, nipping at his fuel pumps.

"Keep your hands on the window," Proteus whispered huskily, and Ratbat immediately obeyed. Proteus smirked; as a reward, he added a second finger, moving both up to the knuckle. He stroked and scissored mesh and nodes, Ratbat's muffled mewling shooting heat down his backstrut and into his groin. His pressurized unit unsheathed; he removed his fingers, teasing Ratbat's folds with strokes of his head. Smearing lubricant and beads of transfluid.

Ratbat relaxed, settling; he nodded. Taking the smaller senator by the hips again, Proteus pushed inside. Ratbat's yowl came out as a loud groan. Proteus gave Ratbat a moment to adjust before continuing; a slow slide in, a slow slide out, repeat until Ratbat's cries were an even balance of pain and pleasure.

Proteus dropped his forehead against the top of Ratbat's head. He closed his optics, breathing in the ozone and electricity in the air, between their bodies. Ratbat eased back against his chest, relaxing.

This could get dangerous. Very dangerous.

But that would never be a problem.


End file.
